


Dib of the Dead

by FORINSECAL, Jamcub



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Broken PAK (Invader Zim), Halloween One Shot, PAKs attach to things they should not, lots of gore imlied or otherwise, lots of gore implied or otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 17:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21256646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FORINSECAL/pseuds/FORINSECAL, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamcub/pseuds/Jamcub
Summary: When show and tell day comes to Skool, Zim decides to bring something special to class. However, things go south pretty quickly, and Dib and Gaz find themselves facing up against a threat neither of them could have anticipated.Will they make it out alive... or dead?





	Dib of the Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Collab work with my friend FORINSECAL! I came up with the idea originally and we just impromptu decided to collab. They were a lot of fun to work with and made this a lot better through their input.
> 
> Happy Halloween!

“So, what’s this?” Red said past a mouthful of donuts. He and Purple were standing on a bridge overlooking a huge area filled with mountains of scrapped materials. 

Most of them were discarded PAKs, some with their legs halfway retracted, like a bunch of dead spiders. Every now and then, something moved a little bit, like a leg twitching, but otherwise, this was really just-

“Garbage,” Purple shrugged. “Just like…. A load of stuff.” He was nursing a huge slurpee, idly watching what little movement came from the mess below. “Apparently we have ‘too much’ of it, and we ‘need to get rid of it now’ or something.” He drew sarcastic air quotes around the words.

Red snorted. “Uh, we could just… throw it out, right?”

“But  _ where _ ?” Purple frowned. “We need a place that is so far away there’s no chance of us ever seeing any of this again...”

\---

At the ringing of the school bell, Zim was one of the first to slip down from his desk and head for the door.

“Where do you think  _ you’re _ going, Zim?” Ms Bitters snarled. “You haven’t taken a leaflet.”

She was holding a stack of papers, the class lining up to each take one from her gnarled fingers.

“Zim needs no leaflet!”

“You do if you want to participate in tomorrow’s show and tell.”

He paused in thought. “Show and tell?”

“What kind of kid hasn’t heard of show and tell?” Dib sniped, leaning out of formation at the back of the queue.

Ignoring him, Zim took the paper Ms Bitters was holding and scanned over the information.

SHOW AND TELL DAY, TOMORROW

NO LIQUIDS

NO BODILY FLUIDS

NO PETS (DEAD OR ALIVE)

NO EXPLOSIVES

This was an opportunity he couldn’t miss. The chance to bring something from his home into the class... But what would he bring? A weapon of some kind, yes, but on the surface it would have to look inconspicuous… Maybe he could modify his skin liquifier into something small enough to carry. Or get one of the offshoots from the brain parasite out of cryostasis. Dark, deep laughter rose up his throat, distracting him from the sound of footsteps clapping the tiled floor. Before Zim could react, Dib had snatched the paper out of his hands.

“What’s the matter, huh? Huh?!” He circled around Zim, holding the leaflet out of his reach. “Scared you won’t have anything  _ human _ to bring?”

A growl from Ms Bitters was enough to silence him. Zim took the opportunity to reclaim his leaflet, the paper crumpling in his fist.

“Of  _ course _ I know of show and tell,” he said, straightening with pride. He raised his voice, pointing at and addressing the whole class. “And tomorrow, my show and tell will be the greatest, and most normal of all!”

The class answered with silence, eyes wide, until Ms Bitters turned to offer out the next sheet of paper.

“Nice try, Zim,” Dib snapped, “but no matter what you bring, everyone will see it for the horrible alien artefact it is!”

As he headed for the door, he shoved Zim out of the way, sneering from ear-to-ear.

“See you tomorrow, space boy. I’ll be in the front row waiting for you to expose yourself for the monster that you are.”

His laughter followed him out into the corridor, the other kids leaving one-by-one afterwards. Zim was one of the last to trail outside, the leaflet squished thin and wrinkled in his increasingly tense grip. The Dib didn’t intimidate him; he would overcome this challenge as he had overcome every other one before it. With his superior Irken mind and ingenuity...

\---

“GIR! Are you listening?”

He laughed. “No.”

Zim sighed, put his palms together, and pointed downwards at the box between them. GIR was sitting on the couch, an ice pop slowly melting on the paws of his dog suit.

“Tomorrow, it’s ‘show and tell’ day at Skool.” He spurned the words out in disgust. “Under no circumstances are you to touch this box. Any interference, and my plan will be ruined. Do you understand?”

As GIR opened his mouth to no doubt disagree, the doorbell chimed. Zim rushed to check who was there before the roboparents were triggered. He opened the door just a crack, a heavy-looking crate disassembling in response, until all that was left on the pavement was a battered cardboard box closed shut with tape.

“I didn’t order anything,” Zim said, pausing in thought.

He dragged the parcel inside anyway, the contents clattering around until it came to rest right next to his show and tell project. Aside for the grease stains on the bottom of the new box, there wasn’t a lot of difference between the two. Zim brought one of his PAK legs out, using the sharp tip to cut through the tape. A little whimper trembled out of him at the sight of what was inside.

Disattached, and malfunctioning PAKs. Some were cracked, others concave as though the Irken once stuck on the other end had endured a severe beating; a few still had their appendages half-out, the legs twitching, whirring, sparking. Zim dared touch his palm to one of them, cupping the smooth end. A thrumming vibration ran through its circuitry, the PAK shifting under his fingers, spooking him into withdrawing his arm.

“What  _ is _ this?”

“SOMEBODY LEFT YOU A NOTE!”

Without restraint, GIR dove headfirst into the box, resurfacing with a small card. Zim plucked it from his sticky hand. 

“This is Irken writing!” he exclaimed. “‘Have fun, from  _ Your Tallests _ ’! A gift for Zim?! Surely, this is a reward; I knew they would recognise my greatness, I  _ knew _ \- ”

His voice cut off with a cry as one of the PAKs leapt out of the box, fixing itself to his chest. Slammed onto his back, Zim strained to get up, but the PAK sprouted its legs, the tips digging into the carpet. GIR was still in the box, his head cocked at an unnatural angle, his frame a silhouette in the shadows of the living room.

“GIR,” Zim yelled, “don’t just sit there! Help your master!”

GIR tilted his head to the other side, his eyes heating from teal to red. Out from behind him, spindly, spider-like legs deployed, lifting him up and out of the box. Against the increasing pressure at his chest, Zim attempted to skirt backwards, a panicked wheeze catching in his throat. There was then a crack.

Zim went still.

He looked down at his front.

The sharp anchors inside the PAK had sunken into his skin, snapping his ribs inward. A sickening ache spread through his body, the PAK’s cords and wires feeding into his flesh like vines burrowing through earth. He could say nothing for screaming, his body limp and unresponsive after the assault.

“My… My,” he sputtered, his head falling back against the floor with a thump. “My Tallests… My…”

His vision blurred, a warmth spreading under him that he was sure could only be blood. For a while, there was only the raggedness of his breaths, his whirring thoughts.

Then, in the raw silence, splintering clicks. Metal scuttling. 

Something was coming.

\---

Dib was sitting on hot coals all through the first half of the next day. He’d brought one of his Dad’s inventions, stashing it under his seat until he was called on to show it off. Several other kids had brought items of various dubious nature, from a writhing mass of what looked like minced meat, to sealed transport boxes that made Dib more nervous than anything else.

He craned his neck, looking at the third seat in the front row. It had been left empty for the entire morning, with no hide or wig showing from the green alien boy. As the clock ticked forward, Dib felt distinctly uneasy, to the point it must have been obvious, because-

“Dib,” Ms Bitters snarled, “you look terrible. You can go present your piece first.” 

She pointed at bony finger at Dib, who pushed his chair back to get up. Before he could hop off the chair, though, the door to the room swung open to a gasp from the audience of children.

“You’re late,” Ms Bitters drawled, growling softly. She pointed at the only empty seat, and Dib’s eyes darted from her to the frame of the door.

“ _ YOU! _ ” 

He all but jumped up, pointing an accusing finger at Zim, who was slowly tottering into the room. He was carrying what looked like a huge box, probably as tall as he was, and completely ignored Dib.

“Ms Bitters, he’s planning something,” he complained.

Zim didn’t say a word, instead sitting down at his desk. Something disappeared into the strange metallic piece in his back, and Dib squinted. He was pretty sure he was only supposed to have … one of those, right? Not two; one on his back, the other at his front, with deep, dark stains on the fabric of his stupid pink tunic-thing.

Right?

“Dib, sit down. If you don’t behave, I am giving you an F on this exercise,” Bitters replied, entirely ignoring the fact Zim had somehow managed to look even weirder than usual. “Sit.”

Dib slowly lowered himself back into his seat, watching Zim and the massive box he had dragged in suspiciously. Before anything else could happen, though, the doorbell cut through his thoughts, announcing lunch break.

“Go,” Ms Bitters said dryly, swooping over to behind her desk, where she began to rummage through a stack of papers. “We will continue after lunch break finishes.”

\---

Dib left the classroom last, even after the Old Kid, who usually trailed behind. His thoughts were on the box, and Zim’s weird…. Thing on his front. He’d seen legs come out of the one on his back before, yes, but this was… weird. Why would he need another one of these? What was in the box, anyway?

Dib was dragging his feet, heading to the cafeteria. He was muttering softly to himself, still trying to make sense of the situation when nothing he’d seen seemed to fit together at all.

“But what - ?” 

Dib finally looked up as he pushed the door of the cafeteria open. The entire room was silent, several dozen pairs of eyes digging into him as soon as he stepped in.

“Uh, guys…?” 

The door swung shut behind Dib, who slowly looked from one empty pair of eyes to the next. His whole class was staring him down, joined by a few faces he’d never seen before, and one empty pair of magenta eyes at the helm of it all.

“Zim…” Dib could feel his throat go dry, swallowing to get rid of the feeling to no avail. “What are you doing?! You know you won’t get away with this!” he said sharply, “It’s al-”

_ Chhhhnk _ .

With one swift movement, a dozen or more sets of metal legs erupted from even more metal cases, lifting everyone a good foot or so up in the air. Limbs dangling listlessly, they seemed to be only held up by the spindly legs, like the ones of a spider, but glistening in the bright lighting of the cafeteria.

Dib’s wide, panicked eyes finally moved from the display of his classmates hanging there with their bodies limp like rag dolls, to the sight of a large box, torn up as though someone had used teeth and claws to get inside. His arms raised in defense.

“ZIM!” he managed to scream before common sense set in, forcing him to push the door behind him back open and make a break for it. Behind him, he could hear the clatter of metal on tile, and turned his head, trying to see if any of the things were following him.

“HEY?!” 

He suddenly felt himself being grabbed, realising belatedly that he’d managed to run into someone. Dib blinked in confusion at the sight of Gaz, holding her Game Slave in one hand and his sleeve in the other.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, eyes not moving from her screen. “It’s lunch time.”

“I could ask you the same thing!” 

Dib was out of breath, still listening to the tell tale signs of spider legs rapidly approaching.

Gaz held up her Game Slave briefly. “So why are you out? The food’s not that bad, is it?”

“It’s not the food!” Dib bit his lip. “Gaz, we have to get out! Zim brought something to school-”

“It’s show and tell.  _ Everyone  _ brought something.”

“ _ And _ it’s done something to the kids! They’re all.. Weird…!” Dib threw his hands into the air. “I’m serious, Gaz, something’s really wrong…”

Gaz snapped her game shut, stuffing it into her pocket, and grabbed her brother by the front of his shirt. One of her eyes opened a crack, glaring at Dib.

“ _ Listen _ . If this is one of your stupid delusions again, I’m going to slap you so hard you won’t remember how to put your head on straight,” she snarled, pure venom in her voice.

As she finished, Dib could hear a noise behind them, a mass of clattering and scurrying  _ somethings _ . 

_ The things must have figured out how to open the door _ , he thought sharply.

“GAZ!”

“WHAT?!”

“ _ RUN! _ ”

Gaz tensed, but her grip on his shirt did not loosen. Dib twisted to see behind himself. The doors were cracked open, and like clawing fingers, several pairs of PAK legs were curling through the gap.

His heart leapt into his throat. 

“We have to run  _ now _ , Gaz!”

She let go of him with a shove. Legs too weak to catch him standing, Dib fell backwards, his breath catching. 

The infected kids had breached the threshold. They crawled up the walls like spiders, pouring in, Gaz small and rigid, her eyes impossibly wide as she watched their opening to run begin to close up.

“Dib?” A tinge of fear touched the threat in her tone. “What’s going on?”

A warm, wet droplet tapped his forehead.

He looked upwards, dread tearing at his chest.

Zim was hovering over him, a low growl purring from his throat. Appendages at his back held him high, the PAK on his chest sparking and damaged, a clear-looking liquid oozing from where it had connected to his body. Zim’s mouth tugged into a distorted grin, one eye twitching, his gaze unfocused. The same liquid lined the rounded grooves of his teeth, another drop plinking against Dib’s glasses. Close up, it looked purplish in colour.

_ Blood? _ Dib thought, fascinated.  _ Zim’s blood…? Is he…? _

Suddenly, the PAK legs folded inwards. Dib screamed as Zim dropped down towards him. Then something caught his leg, the floortiles sliding beneath him as he was dragged out from under Zim’s attack.

It was Gaz; she had him by the ankle, her signature scowl more severe than ever. They didn’t need to speak. Dib scrabbled to a stand and Gaz reached out to take his wrist. Together, they made a break for it, but the infected kids were converging, swarming into the corridor ahead in an exorable, groaning march. Dib and Gaz ground to a halt. The kids’ bodies hung limp off the ends of the PAKs, their heads down, arms and legs like deadweights as they lumbered on, too braindead to pay the two of them any attention. There was a fresh, coppery smell in the air, of all the blood spreading at the kids’ chests, their backs - wherever the PAKs had burrowed into them.

“What now?!” Dib panicked.

“There!”

Gaz pointed to a small gap between all the clattering PAK limbs, dragging him with her.

“We won’t fit!”

“We can slide under,” she urged.

A clicking noise ran a shiver up Dib’s spine. He glanced over his shoulder, only to see Zim advancing, his body swaying as the PAK legs drove him forward. Able to see for herself, Gaz quickened her pace, Dib drawing level with her, his heart thumping so hard at his ribs, it hurt.

“This is it,” she said, letting go of him.

Gaz hit the floor at a skid, slipping through the narrowing gap. Dib followed her lead. He stretched one leg, curling the other under himself. Only, something caught his jacket at the last minute. His arms were tugged up over his head, a sharp, metal appendage slamming down, cracking the tile between his legs. He stiffened, teeth gritted. Zim was leering from above, ready to pincer him again. 

With a yelp, Dib rolled sharply to the left. His jacket twisted, tangling him up. Something nicked at his clothes, slicing painful across the skin underneath. Crying out, Dib braced himself, lying chest to the floor, breathless with fear. Zim momentarily let go of him to reposition. Heaving himself onto all-fours, Dib brought a hand to the source of the pain.

His palm came back red, a shocking amount of dark blood smearing his skin, dribbling into the cracks between his fingers.

“Hey, idiot!” he heard Gaz yell.

Thinking she meant him, Dib jerked to search for her. With the infected kids dispersing, there was more room; he could see her standing strong amid the chaos, arm drawn back, something round and heavy in her hand. Distracted by her shout, Zim careered to face her, snarling, mouth foaming. Gaz’s projectile flew in a clear arc, striking him in the side of the head with a sickening crack. He staggered, shrieking, the PAK legs bowing as he curled in on himself.

Panting, chest so tight he could hardly breathe, Dib got to a wobbly stand. Gaz was waiting for him, hand outstretched.

“Thanks,” he managed, staggering towards her.

“Whatever, Dib, let’s just  _ go _ .”

“Right. There has to be an empty classroom around here.”

“Yeah,” she said, taking his fingers in hers, too focused to even notice the blood, “any ideas?”

“I think I know of somewhere,” Dib offered, paling.

It was clear Gaz was spooked, but as usual, there was little outward evidence. Dib only really knew because she was his sister. As they ran, her breath came quick and short through her nose, shaky, her grip so tight on him, her whole hand was trembling.

They had to get somewhere safe. That was all Dib could think of right now. He couldn’t even feel the ache in his chest anymore. Didn’t even notice the trickle of blood dropping a trail behind them…

  
  


\- - -

  
  


“In here.”

Dib tugged at the sleeve of Gaz’s shirt, drawing her into the biology room. He found the lightswitch, plunging them into darkness, then dragged a chair from a nearby desk to brace against the door.

“What if we’re not the only ones in here?” Gaz drawled, tone dry as bone.

Nerves frayed, Dib weaved between the desks, drinking in every corner, searching for anything even vaguely person-shaped. A plastic skeleton drooping by the blackboard caught him off-guard, but slowly, his eyesight adjusted.

“I think it’s just us,” he whispered.

There was a soft clinking and clattering, Gaz’s frame small under a long, dog-eared poster displaying a diagram of the human heart. She was rifling in a box.

“Catch.”

She turned, throwing something in his direction. A bundle of bandages; the roll unspun as it arced through the air and dropped at his feet.

“You’re bleeding.”

Dib touched his palm to his torn shirt, his skin shockingly warm and wet underneath.

“Yeah, I know. Thanks.”

They each found a seat, sitting a desk apart. Gaz had retrieved her Game Slave from her pocket. Unlike usual, she had the volume down so low, Dib could barely hear it. He clumsily wrapped his chest, listening beyond the walls for any telltale sound of Zim’s PAK legs on the tiles, or the droning of the now half-brain-dead kids. He couldn’t help but be reminded of the time Zim’s PAK had attached itself to  _ him _ . The way his personality shrank to the back of his brain, Zim’s thoughts bleeding into his until there was almost no difference anymore...

Maybe that was happening to the other kids, too. Maybe they were being overwritten.

In all the months he had spent imagining Zim’s successful invasion of Earth, it had never looked like this.

Gaz turned to face him, her Game Slave’s screen dark as a battery icon flashed a dangerous red.

“So…” she growled. “What’s the plan from here?”

Dib stretched his arms across the desk, tensing. He had to be careful with his movements now. Anything too drastic, and the wound would bleed again.

“OK,” he said slowly, counting his ideas on his fingers. “How about we take the bus, go get Dad from his lab… Then we go to Zim’s place and figure out what he did to make all of this happen, hole up there, use his alien technology to reverse-engineer a cure, then wait for all of this to blow over.”

Gaz scowled. “Why do we have to go to  _ Zim’s _ place?” 

She crossed her arms, one eye narrowed.

“Because we have to, Gaz - ”

“But he’s  _ sick  _ now.”

“Yeah, but we have to know what he did to end up like that in the first place.”

“ _ Why? _ ”

“To help us find a cure!”

“You wanna cure  _ Zim _ ?”

Dib sighed heavily, eyes rolling. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but we have to cure  _ everyone _ who’s sick if we want this to stop. Including Zim.”

“Okay, whatever. But listen,” she said, irritated, “I’m not risking my life to go to stupid Zim’s house. What if we get trapped in there? Do you know how close I am to finishing Vampire Piggy Hunter: Clement’s Revenge?”

“This is bigger than video games, Gaz!” he cried, neck flushing, heartbeat thudding. He was on the verge of panic. “We need to focus.”

“Yeah but if we get sick, then no one gets cured, right? If I’m holing up anywhere, I want it to be somewhere we know. Somewhere familiar... And preferably somewhere I can finish my game.”

This forced Dib to reconsider. He clapped his palms together, a new plan formulating. 

“OK. We take the bus, go get Dad, go to Zim’s house, raid his stuff so we can reverse-engineer a cure, bring it all back here, survive on what’s edible in the cafeteria, and  _ then _ wait for all of this blow over.”

“That could work.”

Dib cringed, hands to his face as he realised the flaw in his plan. “No, wait. We can’t come back here.”

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s not exactly safe anymore…”

The door to the cafeteria had been pretty much blown off its hinges, and there was no telling what the rest of the school looked like. Even sitting in this room, their time was limited. Zim and all of the infected kids would find their way around eventually, but he hoped the biology room being one of many doors in this quadrant would at least buy them some time. 

Dib sighed.

“Where’s safe?” he thought aloud. “Where’s… Familiar…?”

They locked gazes momentarily, as though they had both reached the same thought track at the same time. 

Dib inhaled. “Take the bus, go get Dad, grab Zim’s stuff, go back to  _ our house _ , have a nice cold glass of Poop Cola, and wait for all of this to blow over. How’s that for a plan?”

Gaz quirked an eyebrow, smirking. “Actually not that bad, Dib -”

There was a loud bang, pulling both of their shoulders up to their ears. Gaz turned slowly to watch the door as Dib slipped down from his seat. He spun in a circle, looking for any other way out, but there were no windows in this room. It was nestled deep within the school building, the only light source the white fluourescent striplights on the ceiling.

Something was clattering, clinking down the hallway.

“They’ve found us already,” Dib remarked, rushing over to the door and standing on the chair so he could peer through the glass. “How?!”

His chest felt tight, his heart hammering hard. The lights outside were still on, but he couldn’t  _ see _ anything. There was the rhythmic pitter-patter of sharp metal points clicking over the tiles and yet no sign of anyone. Not even Zim.

Gaz’s footsteps were soft behind him. She pulled on his elbow, urging him to turn around. Then pointed at the floor.

Under his feet, dripping in a clear line between his legs and everywhere he had wandered in the room since before dressing his wound, was a path of clustered, drying blood drops.

Dib shivered, spun to look through the glass pane again.

Something dropped from the ceiling.

He clapped his hand over his mouth to hold back his own scream. One after the other, the infected kids fell from the ceiling, catching themselves on their spider-like appendages. They seemed more alert, eyes wide, twitching, heads turning this way and that in a desperate search. Last to land was Zim. Teeth bared, he lowered himself close to the ground, pressing his face to the trail of blood Dib had left behind.

Trembling, Dib couldn’t look away. They were found.

This was it.

Zim’s empty gaze snapped to him, a snarl rumbling from his throat.

Gaz tugged Dib down from the chair.

“Hide,  _ stupid _ ,” she snapped.

“R-Right. Hide. We should hide...”

She was quick to find them a spot underneath one of the desks, the chair legs obscuring their position in the darkness. Dib just hoped none of the Pak-zombies would be smart enough to flip the light switch.

They were smart enough to burst through the door, though. The chair collapsed, snapping, its parts fired into the opposite wall. A plume of dust breathed into the room, the first of the hoard picking through it, bodies taut, movements unhinged as they sniffed the air. Dib shrank against Gaz. Her fingers knotted into the fabric of his jacket.

This was a waiting game. One-by-one, the kids piled in front of the biology room blackboard, some of the first already clambering over the desks and chairs in their feverish search. Zim followed after, the blood in his mouth foaming at the corners. The others seemed to be more aware of him, a number of the kids watching his every move.

“They’re like a hive-mind…!”

What should have been a thought left his throat loud and clear. All of the zombified kids rounded on them immediately.

“Seriously, Dib?!” Gaz hissed.

Dib clasped his palm to his mouth, afraid to say anything else. As the swarm descended on their hiding place, Gaz led the way, ducking under the tables and weaving between the chair legs in a bid for the door. From above, sharp, metal legs drove into the floor like spikes, upending the furniture, intercepting their path, catching their clothes.

Zim was quick on their trail. In the place of human words left a spray of alien noises; snarls and shrieks that rang frantic and nonsensical above all of the mad clattering.

One look over his shoulder was enough to spur Dib on. His shoes clipped Gaz’s heels as they dashed for the threshold. The noise was deafening behind them. Dib could practically feel one of the PAK legs tracing his spine.

But they were free. They had almost made it. 

Gaz leapt, skidding out into the alcove, the lights overhead flickering. Dib did the same, only something caught his leg. He turned as he fell, landing hard on his back, a whoosh of air knocked from his lungs.

The biology room doorway was full with the zombies trying to force their way out in a tangled mess. So bunched together, their legs had interlocked, bodies pressed together, Zim lost in a writhing mass of drooling, twitching school kids.

Panting, heart so quick in his chest he could barely feel it, Dib managed a half-hearted cough of a laugh.

“Guess there’s no point sharing thoughts when all the brains are stupid, huh,  _ Zim _ ?”

They all stopped moving at once.

The PAK appendages disappeared with a snap, retracting back into their pods.

From out of the pile, Zim emerged, heaving and straining to get himself free.

Gaz clenched her hands into fists. “If you could stop ruining everything for  _ five seconds _ , Dib -”

He rolled over, getting to his feet, twinging at the pain in his chest. This time, he didn’t look back. Footsteps clapping in the otherwise quiet hallways, Dib and Gaz ran, and ran, and ran, until there was only the main entrance doors between them, and their escape.

\- - -

Dib wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he got outside, but something closer to normality was it. Zim brought all of those diseased Paks into the school. Surely the outside world had to be safer?

They rushed down the pavement, turning the corner, sprinting the length of the perimeter wall until they came to a crossing. There was no use checking both ways for cars. Traffic was at a standstill. The vehicles were bumper-to-bumper, metal crumpled and crushed, smoke drifting out of the wreckage. Further up the road, Dib could see the bus they would have to take was now lying on its side.

The few people that were still around were injured and ailing. No Paks in sight just yet, but something had happened here. Something big.

“How are we supposed to get Dad?” Gaz asked, eyes wide.

“Uh,” said Dib.

“You don’t think he’s…”

“Well, we can’t know for sure.” He brought his hands to his head. “Think, Dib. Think.”

Gaz peeled away from him, walking quickly.

“Wait,” said Dib, tearing after her, “where are you going?”

“Home.”

“We can’t go home. Not yet! We have to go to Zim’s house -”

“That’s probably the next place  _ Zim _ will go,” she said, glowering. “We need to check in on Dad.”

Dib shook his head, still clinging to her sleeve to keep her still. “Think about it, Gaz. What if Dad  _ has _ been infected? If we go home, we won’t have any way of fixing him! We should go to Zim’s house like we planned. He has to have a cure there. He wouldn’t plan something like this without having a failsafe first. Not after that boloney incident -”

“ _ You’re _ baloney. Your whole plan is baloney. I wanna go  _ home _ , Dib.”

She snatched her arm back, again turning in the direction of their house. Dib circled in front of her, blocking the path. He clasped his hands together as if in prayer.

“Please, Gaz. You have to trust me on this. For once, just trust me.”

Eyes narrowed into slits, she said nothing. Her fingers curled into her palms at her side.

“Please,” Dib attempted again.

“ _ Fine _ .”

“Yes!”

She gritted her teeth. “But you better hope for your sake nothing goes wrong.”

“It won’t. We’re gonna get a cure from Zim’s place, find Dad… And everything’s gonna be just fine. I promise.”

  
  
  


The house was empty when they arrived. Someone, or rather something, had torn up the garden gomes, tossing them in a haphazard pile by the door. Dib looked down into one of the holes. It didn’t seem to be shallow at all, so he avoided it with a side step.

“So, uh, that’s it. If he’s in there, or … whatever, I guess we’d better be prepared.” Dib looked over his shoulder.

“Gotcha.” Gaz said. She’d grabbed one of the gnomes, now holding it like a makeshift club. “You go first.”

Dib was about to complain, but gave up before he got started. Now was not the time to argue. Not when they were about to enter what had to be the source of all this ….

This Horror.

The door wasn’t locked. Dib stepped inside, into more foreboding darkness The light from the door cast their figures long and distorted on the floor, sharp shadows and shapes cutting out the facsimile of a living room Zim had come up with. Everything seemed normal, except for a huge box not unlike the one Zim had brought to class. Dib frowned.

“...Be careful,” he warned, and Gaz stepped up.

“It’s a box,” she pointed out, stepping up to pull open the flaps. Both her and Dib peered inside, expecting the worst, but… all they found were a few jars, filled with something or other. Whatever it was, it moved slightly.

“Hey, look.” Gaz pointed to the side of the box, where sharpie’d letters spelled out ‘SHOW N TELL’ in Zim’s usual terrible handwriting.

“...Wait, what?” Dib squinted at the text. “What does h-”

“INTRUDERS!”

Both of their heads snapped around, focusing on two pinpricks of red in the darkness. Before either of them could even begin to figure out what was going on, the pricks turned a softer teal.

“C’mere!” GIR was standing there, his usual dopey grin on his face. Well…. What was left of it, anyway. The robot was almost entirely covered in more of the weird things that had taken over the school. Unlike them, though, GIR seemed just fine.

“Huuuh?” GIR tilted his head. A few dozen PAK legs scraped over the tiled floor. Dib shivered.

“Gaz, we should board the door up or something. They’re going to find us soon, and I want to be able to look around properly.” Dib looked at the door, shoulders hunching. Gaz rolled her eyes, holding onto the gnome in her hand tighter. Just as she was about to put it down, a voice rang through the dark room.

**“COME PLAY!”**

GIR was flinging himself at them, at full speed, his weird tongue sticking out. Dib barely managed to avoid him by dodging behind the couch, but Gaz had to swing at him with her gnome.

“OFF!” she barked, striking the little robot with the gnashing sound of metal on metal. Dib winced, peering around the couch to watch.

Gaz managed to avoid GIR’s next attack as well, moving to the side in an attempt to escape. GIR and his many legs took a moment to adjust, so she quickly hopped onto the couch, holding the gnome like a sword.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!!!” she screeched, lunging at GIR the same second he flung himself at her again. They collided in a heap of legs and metal and screams, until Gaz managed to pull herself free from underneath him.

“DIB? WHERE ARE YOU?!” she snarled, both eyes wide open. Dib peered around the couch, and she pointed her gnome at him.

“HELP ME MAYBE?”

Dib’s eyes went wide as he watched the heap of legs that was GIR slowly rising behind her, poised to strike. Unable to do anything but stare, he braced for the sound of metal ripping through flesh, but it never came.

Instead, something heavy slammed through the window in the front of the house, hit the floor, and easily swept aside GIR from behind Gaz. Dib watched in horror as Zim’s lifeless body rose up on four legs, lifting one to knock her aside as well and -

  
  
  


Dib slammed the door to the lab shut behind him, breath ragged and heavy, arms full with the box of gadgets they had salvaged from Zim’s house. He and Gaz were scraped up badly, and the makeshift bandage around his middle was oozing blood. He winced.

“Good thing we beat him, huh, Gaz?” he remarked, dusting himself off with his free hand. “It’s a shame we didn’t get any closer to what we came here for, but at least we’re safe.”

Gaz scowled at him. “Dib. We almost died. Don’t be stupid.” She was shivering, and Dib frowned. “Stop staring and give me your jacket. I’m freezing.”

Dib relinquished his coat, putting the box down to tug it off his shoulder with a frown. “Let’s just go through Zim’s stuff, and then head home. Should probably clean up there and see if Dad can help us.”

“That’s the plan, Dib,” Gaz hissed, grabbing the coat and pulling it on. “C’mon. I don’t want to see any more of these…. These …  _ things _ if I can help it.”

  
  


\- - -

  
  


By the time they were home, Gaz was hunched over, arms crossed, fingers digging deep into her own skin.

“I don’t get it, Gaz,” Dib said. “It’s not  _ that _ cold outside -”

A growl reverberated from her throat. “Leave me alone.”

Chin to her chest, she skulked towards the living room, snatching the remote from the sofa. Dib put the box of paraphernalia from Zim’s base down by the door, then headed for the stairs. He could already feel the warmth of his own blood spreading through the bandages.

Dib had just finished wrapping himself up and put on a new jacket when he heard it. A scream from downstairs. He tugged on his jacket, tearing open the door to his room, barreling down the stairs at top speed.

“GAZ?” The scream had sounded just like her, but now it was deadly silent. The lights were still out, the only glow coming from the TV set in the corner.

“ _ ... have been advised to go inside, and lock all doors... _ ”

Dib slowly stepped closer. Someone was sitting on the couch, purple hair peeking up from the back. His face twisted into a frown. Really now, Gaz? Really?

“Now is not the time!” He cried out, throwing his arms into the air. “I heard a scream, are you okay?”

No response from Gaz. The news report kept playing on the TV, lights sharply flickering over Gaz’s shape, her shadow cut out on the opposite wall.

“At first, authorities claimed there was no cause for concern, but the-”

“... Gaz, this is n-”

_ Chhhnnk _ .

She finally moved, her whole body slowly lifting from the couch. Long, spindly legs dug into the soft fabric of the couch, tearing it open as they scrabbled for purchase. Once they’d grabbed a hold, Gaz turned, each leg slowly moving and twisting until she was facing Dib.

Her chest had been torn open, metal ripping through her shirt and sinking into her flesh, fresh blood soaking her lower body. Dib swallowed the scream that was threatening to tear from his throat just in time.

A leg came swinging at him, and he had to jump back to narrowly avoid another cut. The one on his chest still hurt, and he briefly wondered how long it’d take to bleed through the new bandages.

“Gaz, not you too…!” he rasped out, stumbling a few more paces backwards. “Why-”

His steps were halted by something big right behind him. His elbow hit it it first, and he spun on his heels, trying to see -

“DAD!”

He’d never been so happy to see his Dad before (not even that one time he was trying to get his permission slip signed). Professor Membrane was standing there, his usual unreadable expression on his face. Dib grabbed one of his gloved hands, tugging.

“We have to go! Something terrible is happening, come on Dad…” His voice was tinged with raw panic, tears pricking on the corners of his eyes. He could still hear Gaz moving behind him, and why was his father not doing anything?

“I’ll explain it later, okay, come on, Dad!” More frantic tugging. Dib stared up at him. Was this some kind of joke? Did he think that this wasn’t happening?

“...Dad?” Dib’s grip on his hand slipped, and he watched his arm limply swing back in place. His eyes drifted down his front, further and further, finally coming to rest on the deep, dark red staining Membrane’s lower half.

**Chhnnk. Chhhnnnnk. Chnnnnk.**

  
  



End file.
